Solitude's Enemy
by Jord
Summary: Lara continues her father's unfinished work,and competes with a new adversary to discover the truth about a seemingly insignificant cannibalistic tribe.The truth runs much deeper,threatening the existence of the human soul.
1. Chapter 1

The rays of the morning sunlight were unable to penetrate through the thickly-woven curtains. Instead, it cast the room in a somber, reddish glow that could almost give one the impression that daybreak was hours away. Certainly, the figure underneath the sheets was blissfully unaware of it, and slept soundly as the minutes of morning ticked by.

Unaware, of course, until the door was gently opened, bedside table cleared aside with some amount of noise and the curtains parted dramatically.

But the sleeper would not be daunted and turned her back to the sunlight without a word.

"Lady Croft, it is eleven in the morning and as per _your_ instructions, I have come to _summon_ you out of bed. With force, if necessary. Your appointment will be here in an hour." The man grinned at his articulate abilities causing many a wrinkle to form over his good-natured face.

A low grumble sounded from beneath the sheets. And then finally, a more sensible string of words.

"I'm beginning to believe that saying, Winston – 'you _are_ your own worst enemy'."

"I was merely following your instructions, milady." remarked Winston, as he instinctively began to tidy up the clothes that had been carelessly strewn across the Chippendale furniture near the bed.

She bravely opened her eyes and squinted at the glare. "One hour isn't enough to acclimatize oneself to one's routine." She shifted her position in bed and made as if to go to sleep again.

Winston took a step nearer, and spoke – his voice perfectly calm and level. "Lady Croft, if I may..." A grunt on the young heiress' part was indication enough for him to continue. "You did agree to meet with Miss Shadel's lawyer, and you did schedule the appointment three weeks ago. It would be most disappointing, to him and you both, if the meeting did not occur."

Suddenly, she was fully alert. Propping herself up quickly in bed, she regarded Winston with an angry fire in her eyes. "I did _not_ agree to meet with her lawyer – he's a middleman, if anything. I wanted to talk with the woman herself. Let me remind you that it is _she_ who's too cowardly to come meet me in person to discuss the matter. If there is any reluctance on my part, it's only there because of this useless charade I'll have to enact in the next hour. We'll be exchanging nothing but pleasantries – and he'll tell me absolutely naught about the expedition little Miss Connecticut is funding."

Winston nodded sympathetically, despite having heard the complaint several times. "But sometimes we must make do with what has been given to us. Even if that is nothing. It is merely part of being..."

"...civil." she concluded, with some reluctance.

"Precisely."

"Civility aside, I would like nothing but to shove legal technicalities up her –"

" – your breakfast is getting cold, Lady Croft."

Giving her butler a small smile, she swung her feet of the bed and began to get ready for her day.

* * *

He stood silently in the reception parlor, intently studying the canvas portrait of Louis XIV. His hands were held behind his back, and his briefcase stood solemnly at his feet. He was attired in what could be considered to be a truce between dull yet professional; only a fool would place him in a profession that lay outside the legal realm.

And that was how Lara Croft perceived him from afar. She would have liked to study the man longer – perhaps arrive at more conclusions, but this time about his character – however, time was precious. And as this was a meeting that could quite possibly make her teeth grind, it was best to get things over with as soon as possible.

She cleared her throat, announcing her presence, and the man turned around quickly. He regarded her with a gracious smile that she immediately categorized as feigned, and held out his hand to grasp hers.

Following the handshake, Lara gestured for him to come sit with her in the main hall, and she followed behind him.

"I trust Winston offered you something to drink, Mr..." said Lara as she took her seat opposite him.

"It's Goethe, actually. And yes, he already did." And then, at a brief attempt at levity, he added, "I asked him if there was a Starbucks around here and –"

" – you would have to go into town for that, Mr. Goethe."

She was not quite in the mood for casual banter, he decided. Very well then, time to get down to business. Placing his briefcase neatly on the table, he clicked it open and pulled out several files. Withdrawing some papers, and oblivious to Lara's involuntary frown, he began to speak. "As you know by now, I am Miss Shadel's legal representative – from the Robbins & Oppenheimer firm based in Chicago. She wants me to convey her disappointment in being unable to meet with you in person – being a recent heiress; there are a lot of legal matters she has to attend to, certain social obligations...I'm sure you understand."

"Of course." replied Lara blandly.

Goethe looked up. Her face was expressionless. _Damn_, the woman was hard to read if anything. He wondered quietly to himself if this was a resolute British phenomenon. Then he pushed all his thoughts aside, and plodded on. "We have all the documentation, the visas and permits that we need to proceed. However, there is one last thing that would help our expedition immensely."

Outwardly, her face remained placid and calm. Inwardly, questions that ranged from bemusement to anger began to bubble to the surface. Surely he wasn't here to ask for her to accompany their team...? _Of course not_, she chided herself, _don't be so gullible_. It was presumptuous of her even to believe that Miss Shadel had sent her lawyer to her for a mere apology. Then what the devil was this show of all these documents and legal counsel for?

She raised her eyebrows slightly – an indication for him to continue.

"Since your father had completed the preliminary work in Delhi, we thought –"

Immediately, Lara held up her hand to interrupt him. "My father completing the preliminary work…" she repeated, "I wonder, Mr. Goethe, is that your information or simply what you have been instructed to say? Because if it's the former case, then you have been seriously misinformed. My father was a primary author on the first paper written about such burial rituals. He was in graduate school at the time and it was a dissertation, but all the findings were his own. After receiving his doctorate, his work was _not_ passed down to whoever was next in line. He pursued studying about this tribe, and went on to publish several more papers on the subject. I find the implication that he collected only preliminary data quite offensive."

Goethe swallowed.

She stopped there, trying to reign herself in. There was so much more she would have loved to have released, but she would see to it that it would not be she who would turn this meeting into a war of words. He was, after all, a bloody lawyer.

Goethe quickly assumed the role of placater. "I assure you Miss Croft, in no way did I intend to tarnish the tremendous work your father did. I am sure you are perfectly correct – I must've just been misinformed..."

Lara narrowed her eyes. Why the groveling? Not only was it unbecoming, it was uncharacteristic – especially for a lawyer. What was the dangling carrot, she wondered?

He continued. "We know that in his studies he did keep certain artifacts, relics...unimportant trinkets," Goethe saw Lara wince but maintained his resolve, "...things that were not handed over to the British Museum but were kept for his own private display." On seeing a flash cross over Lara's eyes, he hurriedly pressed on. "Not that there was anything improper in what he did! He had made the displays available to public viewing on a yearly basis...and such viewings were free of charge – a very charitable gesture!"

"Your point, Mr. Geothe, seems to have eluded you. If you wish to view these artifacts, you would have to come back in the summer – which is when I have decided to make my father's collections accessible to the public. Otherwise, you would have to observe the photographs and other documentation that my father has provided to the Museum of those in his collection."

Goethe shook his head, trying to ignore Lara's growing hostility. "I...or my client, rather, would like to have these remnants. On a temporary basis, of course, and we've now determined that they are imperative for success of our expedition. You would be financially compensated for their brief period of absence."

Lara leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. "Mr. Goethe..." she began slowly, trying to control her temper, "...try to view the situation from my point of view. All the evidence of this previously undiscovered tribe – their culture, their marriage ceremonies...and mostly importantly, their burial rituals – were brought to light by my father. In the 1950s, despite his youth, my father had already become a noted authority on the subject. Even though he went on to pursue other areas of archeology, this was one of the few finds that he kept near to his heart. It was immensely personal to him. For you and your client to step in decades down the road, and continue his work without giving credit where credit is due is extremely disrespectful. To use excerpts of his unpublished work is outright plagiarism. Just because a loophole exists in the system for your exploitation does not justify your actions."

"My father not being around to defend himself is to you nothing but a convenience – and it is my duty, as his daughter, to speak in his stead. Since you did not ask for my approval, or even the approval of his colleagues, I would have to condemn every step you have taken as an insult to my father's work. And to come into my house and offer me money to obtain possession of these artifacts only compounds the insult. At this point in time, there is nothing that you could bring to the table to convince me to share any information with you."

All the while Goethe had been listening intently with a sinking stomach. So far, nothing had gone according to plan. Perhaps then...he would use his last card. "There is...one more thing, that we could offer you."

"And what would that be?"

"Your assistance. We could make you the second leading expert on our team, and compensate you well for your time. You would, or course, be traveling with us – all expenses paid –"

" – what is with you lawyers and money? What makes you think that the same things that appeal to you appeal to the other members of society?"

"Miss Croft," spoke Goethe slowly, "we are asking you to accompany us on the expedition. That way, you could personally see to the safety of your father's findings and help continue his work."

Lara held her breath. This was what she had wanted him to say all along, really. She hadn't believed that the words would come to be – it had all been wishful thinking, until now. She had reached an intersection and she had to make a choice. Lara studied the weaving of the Turkish carpet beneath her intently. Working alongside and with the likes of Goethe troubled her deeply. However, could that fact be overshadowed by the continuation of her father's work? Or would they use her just as they were maneuvering Goethe's own tongue and actions? Being manipulated, being restricted...those were some of her greatest fears. And working for people who had tarnished her father's work, even if unintentionally, would be quite the betrayal.

She had made her choice.

"The situation and my decision, Mr. Goethe, has not changed. The success of your expedition lies entirely in you and your client's hands. I simply cannot spare you the time. Thank you very much for coming, and it is unfortunate that we could not have met under better circumstances." Her tone was cool, but polite, and it was obvious that the discussion was closed.

Goethe didn't see it that way, however. "Lady Croft –" He began to rise out of his seat but Lara had already beat him to it, and began walking away.

"Winston will see you out, Mr. Goethe. Do have a nice day."


	2. Chapter 2

Lara Croft strolled quietly into the dining room with her hands in her pockets and a thoughtful frown on her face. She watched in silence, observing her butler diligently fold each napkin and lay it almost tenderly next to each plate on the long table. He then moved on to the silverware. There was something comforting in watching him go about his tasks. She realized that she had taken him for granted far too often…accepted without question that his presence would always be here, with her, at Croft Manor. A sharp tug at her heart helped her descend to reality. She had thought of her father in that way too. 

After the disappearance of her mother when she was nine, she could not perceive that life would be so cruel as to deal her another crippling blow. But it did, and in the blink of an eye, her father was taken from her. The loss was devastating; and she spent many a day in his room, holding his clothes…inhaling his scent, willing him to return to her. All her zeal and enthusiasm appeared to have vanished along with his presence. Whilst she struggled to come to terms with her loss, her relatives circled slowly above what would become of Abingdon Estate, each eager to get their hands on the valuable land. It was then that Winston had come to her, urging the young heiress to stand up amidst such troubles, and to claim the home that was rightfully hers.

He had told her that the bravest of hearts fight battles that are bleak; those that stand little chance of winning. It was all well and good to be bold when circumstances were in your favour – but to not bow to defeat when defeat was prominent – there lay true courage. In his own way, he carried with him a lot of wisdom and love. His was a presence she realized she would not be willing to part with any day.

After he had polished and straightened the entire row of cutlery, she could not help but smile. "Winston, we haven't had a formal gathering here since January. Must you put yourself through this painful ritual each week?"

Winston looked up from his work and spoke good-naturedly. "We all have our eccentricities, Lady Croft," he smiled knowingly at her, and she returned it, her cheeks reddening slightly. "This is mine. In addition to my whims, I thought it would be nice for your friends to come home to laid table and a warm meal."

Lara looked surprised. "Alistair and Zip? Home so soon? Has it already been a month?"

"Matter of fact, it has been more than a month. Their flight was delayed in Beirut – the next one out was leaving in a week."

"Goodness. Tempus fugit."

"Indeed." nodded Winston. "Especially when our minds are preoccupied. I am sorry the meeting did not go to your liking. Mr. Goethe, too, seemed particularly distressed upon leaving."

She strolled up to the table and began a cursory examination of the red carnations that had been laid beside each plate. "He wanted to see father's old relics. The ones that he used to put out on display."

"Whatever for?"

"His client is a little short of information, it seems. Perhaps all the papers and photographs father took are not enough for them to go on."

Winston looked confused. "Do forgive my misinterpretations, Lady Croft, but I was under the impression that all the artifacts under your father's care were documented."

"They are, Winston. But simple photographs and descriptions as such...are not enough. They wanted me to loan some of the pieces to them. When I refused, they were desperate enough to offer me a place on their research team in exchange for my cooperation." She put the red flower gently back in its place. "I said no."

The old man looked concerned. "I thought that was what you had wanted,"

Lara shook her head. "Apparently not."

"If you are happy in your decision, then that is all you can ask of yourself."

She looked away, troubled.

"Lady Croft?" he ventured softly. "This dig – it is very important to you, is it not?" She nodded slowly, not meeting his gaze. "And you had said to me, previously, that you wanted nothing more than to be part of the expedition. It seems to me, that you have reached a quandary." Lara let out a grim chuckle. "But no dilemma is devoid of a solution. If you cannot work with them, then go the site alone. That way, you will owe no one."

She looked at Winston curiously. "In terms of research, Winston, they are light years ahead of me. Who knows what other artifacts they've uncovered? What else they've learned?"

"Begging your pardon, Lady Croft, but since when have you let a mere head start discourage you?"

A slight smile crept across her face, but her words were tentative. "They're a well organized team. And while I'm one, they're many."

"Thirteen men driven by money cannot stand against one driven by passion."

"Such sayings would be considered foolhardy by many. Very impractical."

"And we know that all that you have accomplished has been done via sheer practicality...and your attentiveness to the manual," winked Winston.

She let out a laugh, and gave him a knowing smile. "Winston – I've got to hand it to you. You certainly do know how to bring out the best in me." She started walking away, and then paused briefly, calling back to him. "Please make the necessary arrangements for Delhi – I aim to leave two weeks from now. I'll be staying at my usual place. Oh, and Winston?"

"Yes, Lady Croft?"

"I wish to make a small detour in Shanghai – there are a few things I'll need to check up on before I head to Delhi."

* * *

**FIVE HOURS LATER**

"Say what?" piped up the young man after glancing up from his laptop.

Lara sighed; partially due to her own frustrations and partially due to her friend's disbelief. "It's just that...after going through a few of the papers...all the evidence my father has put together seems to be pointing in one direction. An all-too-obvious direction. It seems that he was aware of something he was not quite willing to share...or at least put into writing. But you must keep in mind, Zip, that this is only a cursory glance through some of his findings – there's plenty more to unearth – so I could quite possibly be wrong."

Zip leaned back in his chair – it was his turn to sigh. "Your thoughts are running faster than your words again, Lara. And if you words can't catch up, think of what it must be doing to the rest of us who hear 'em! I just don't see why you want me to pull up that woman's files again. I sent you all the information from Beirut." He shrugged his shoulders in a hopeless gesture. "What does her profile have to do with your dad's work anyhow?"

"Because, Zip, she is the daughter of an oil tycoon. The only schooling she'd received was at Bobby-Joe's school of etiquette – " she saw Zip wince and chuckle at the insult, but carried on, " – and she has plenty of money to see her and her grandchildren through life. Why on earth would she want to invest her time and money in archeological findings?"

"_You_ do it – and you're both in a similar position in life." said Zip, a matter-of-factly.

Lara rolled her eyes. "You forget my heritage."

"Ah," recalled Zip in realization.

"Anyway," pressed Lara, "There is something that eludes us. There is no visible connection between her heritage, or even her own interests, and what my father uncovered."

"Maybe she's just a rich chick with fancy whims. You know how these millionaires can get."

Lara looked away, the gears still chugging away in her mind. "No. Not in this case. This is anything but a whim. It's a well thought-out plan."

"A plan which didn't initially include you. You still sore about it, huh?"

She pointed her finger at Zip and smiled. "_That_, Zip, is exactly what sets this dig apart from the others. If you had a genuine interest in something, you would want to get expert opinions – given that you could afford it, and she can – from all over the world to aid you in your quest for knowledge. But she didn't. All the co-authors on father's papers were not consulted. One would think that they would be the foremost people one would go to for this sort of thing. Instead, she hired a bunch of lawyers and businessmen to organize the research team."

Zip looked puzzled. "So, she's in cahoots with Wall Street...?" After getting no response from Lara, "Are these lawyers and money-men actually gonna do the digging? And how do you know who's on this team of hers anyhow?"

Lara shook her head. "I don't know for certain, Zip. But the list of names was in one of the files belonging to her lawyer. Winston and I did a small search and found out that they belonged to business firms – some banking, some real estate...and most interestingly – a tourist firm in Lima, Peru."

Zip looked tired. "Lara..._so what?_"

She held both her hands up and grinned. "Remember that I told you that father detailed the burial rituals of this tribe?" Zip nodded. "Each of the deceased was buried with a dagger. Incan daggers."

"I don't suppose there was a way to Fed Ex those knives from Peru to India back in the day, was there?" Then, after giving the matter a second thought, "Lara, couldn't the Incans have traveled to South Asia by boat?"

"Quite possibly, but highly unlikely at the time. And the tribe was far removed from the coastline."

Zip furrowed his brows and sighed. He glanced at the clock on his laptop screen. The small digits read 2:05 AM. "Okay. I'm convinced. There is some invisible link between our Miss Shadel intentions and this wacky tribe of yours that collects Peruvian trinkets. I'll go over her profile one more time. But the academic portion of the work falls into Alistair's lap – not mine."

Lara nodded, pleased. "Of course. Where is our hapless adventurer anyway?"

"He's holed up in his room rubbing some damned hydrocortisone cream over himself. He claims he's allergic to some leaves he brushed up against in the airport."

"Ah, the dangers of intercontinental travel. Good thing you two didn't follow my suggestion and go hiking. Alistair would have turned into a shining example for hypochondriacs everywhere."

Zip began to shut down his laptop, and let out a long audible yawn. He watched sleepily as Lara began to walk away. "Don't I know it. You heading for dreamland too?"

"Not if I can help it. I have two weeks to catch up on two months of work that that lot have done."

"Sounds like you're heading to Vegas with only a buck to spend. But hey, it's your dollar."

Lara smiled. "It is indeed."


End file.
